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| - The body of Tixxon Pardee has been found in an alley on Tomin Kora. Now, an old flame shows up to talk over a deal with one of Shadowheart’s top people: Colin Neidermeyer… Last Call Tavern A place like this makes a person wish every chair sat with its back to a wall. The tavern is a dark and shadowy place, the outside glow of the nebula filtering in weakly while pale blue plasma lanterns gleam in the center of most tables (some seem to have run out of juice, but the complaints department doesn't care and the maintenance crew doesn't get paid enough to intrude on conversations better left in the darkness). The room stinks of sweat, cigarette smoke, and spilled alcohol and blood. Fifteen tables and six booths are arrayed around a central C-shaped bar counter, which has eight stools in front of it. Urfkgar is at the bar with Crrok. Neidermeyer walks into the bar, glances around, letting his eyes adjust to the shadows. They settle for a moment on the aliens at the bar, and an instinctive grimace follows. He tugs at his jacket, then moves on, giving the reptiloids wide berth as he makes his way to a corner table. Crrok rumbles and nods his scaly snout. "Of courssssse. I'll sssssee what I can do." Tail hissing on the floor as the tail spike scrapes quietly. "Any certain type of poissson?" Loud enough from Urf to hear, but not loud enough to carry far. Cesca arrives from Aurora Strand . Cesca has arrived. Neidermeyer settles into a booth in a shadowy corner, his back to the wall, eyes on the door. Cesca strolls into the tavern, pausing in the doorway so that her eyes adjust to the light. When she moves forward again, it is at a slower pace, her hips languidly swaying. Urfkgar is at the bar with Crook. He grunts to himself and shrugs slowly. His voice takes on a grumpier than usual tone as he says, "It'll need to be able to kill those such as ourselves or the Nall." Neidermeyer arches an eyebrow as he watches Cesca approach. Cesca takes note of -the- Cabrerra employee and her expression relaxes a little. Only Francesca would -relax- at seeing Neidermeyer. She makes her way over to him with prowling steps, pausing by his table. "May I speak with you for a moment, Signore?" Neidermeyer shrugs, then gestures at the cushioned booth seat across from him. "Your dime." Crrok hisses softly. "That will be... Harder to find. I think I know where to get it though.." Rumbling, "A sssstandard bug or no?" He asks. Cesca curls herself down into the indicated seat with lazy grace. She settles herself, easing her jacket open a touch to give the man the best view of her cleavage. "I heard about the unidentified Timonae that was killed here recently. An acquaintance of mine seems to have gone missing. I was hoping to get a look at the body to make sure it isn't him." Urfkgar shrugs and says, "They do not have to be much. Whatever you can find will do." Neidermeyer furrows his brow slightly, but leans back in his booth and thumps the fingers of his right hand on the the frame. "Well, now, we don't exactly keep a morgue or anything like that..." He smiles mordantly. "But, I think I can help you with the identity of the victim. Tixxon was the name, yes?" Cesca's dark, imperious eyebrows lift in surprise. "Tixxon Pardee is the name of the man I am looking for, si. You remember meeting me, then?" Neidermeyer nods. "You. And him." He smiles slightly. "Had a complaint about one of my associates some time back. I dealt with it, but apparently Mr. ... Pardee? ... couldn't leave well enough alone." Crrok grunts, "Ok." Rumbling and slumps against the counter, silent now as he hisses and listens. Full mouth quirking, Francesca gives a little nod of her head. "Si, that is Tixxon. Did you see this body, then? Can you tell me if it was not him? I am concerned about him." Cesca says, "It is unlike him not to answer a paddmail from me." Neidermeyer chuckles. "Lady, he's dead as Earth." He arches an eyebrow. "Hell, deader than that." He winks, then points at a greasy spot on the floor about six feet away. "That's where he bled out when he got his throat slit." Cesca's first reaction is to blink. She turns her head to look at the spot upon the floor and she very slowly nods. A hint of moisture touches her eyelashes, but she blinks it away. "So, he is dead then," she says in a voice that's slightly huskier than normal. Neidermeyer nods. "Well, even if the slit throat and the plasma blast hadn't done it - heh, the rats in the alley...woo. They go for the eyes first." Urfkgar grunts to himself and snorts a few times. Cesca pales just a fraction, but she does a good job of keeping her cool. "Will there be an official announcement of his identity, Signore Neidermeyer? It would facilitate the disbursement of Signore Pardee's estate." Neidermeyer drops his chin slightly, wiggling his eyebrows. "Disbursement of an estate, eh? Tell me this: You sure you want it publicized? You know you aren't the only person asking about this clown. He trafficked in Zangali slaves and Demarian anatomical novelties. I've got hunters from at least four different worlds calling for various parts of his body - and any other sort of compensation they can get their appendages on." Cesca leans forward a tad, offering Neidermeyer her most charming smile. "I'm sure he had a will, Signore. I'm hoping I was mentioned in it. Do you blame a girl for wanting to get her hands on what's rightfully hers?" Crrok grunts, snorts, and snarls as a big, gooey glob of lizard snot ends up on the counter top. Neidermeyer returns the smile with a glare that matches her warmth with enough frost to spark a thunderstorm at the table. He too leans forward, jabbing a beefy finger at the tabletop as he hisses between clenched teeth: "Hell, no, don't blame you one bit, you strike me as just the sort of opportunistic bottom feeder who would go for the gold buried in the bowels of a dead donkey, but the fact is, the minute you try to lay a public claim on his estate, everyone else with a grievance against Tixxon Pardee is going to descend on the remnants like vultures on a diller carcass." Urfkgar doesn't seem to be bothered by the snot. He pulls a carrot out of his pocket and munches happily. At that, just a hint of a spark forms in the Italian woman's eyes. Though her nostrils flare, she retains hold of her temper. "Then perhaps we could take care of this quietly? A simple death certificate would do. Signore Pardee's enemies have nothing to do with me. I had no idea how he made his money. I do not intend to make a fuss about his death. However, no one will be able to descend upon the remnants of his ill-begotten gains if he is assumed to still live, wouldn't you say?" Neidermeyer smiles darkly. "Well, you see, the Cabrerra organization would love to do something charitable for the little people but...well, there's just not much profit in charity." He winks, leaning back in his seat. "Ten percent of the estate, and ten percent of any future profits realized by the estate. That'll buy you a fairly anonymous file, a quiet disbursement, and zero publicity." Cesca leans forward just a little more, showing off her smooth and generous cleavage to best advantage. "Why, Signore Neidermeyer, I would be delighted to make such a deal with you, provided that I am indeed one of Signore Pardee's heirs. I am as yet unaware of the entirety of his estate or of the contents of his will, but I do think that ten percent is more than fair." Crrok doesn't seem bothered by snot either. Hissing at the bartender and gets a tall glass of what looks like blood or really, really, dark red wine. Neidermeyer is, at the moment Cesca shows off her cleavage, burrowing in his jacket for a cigar. He finds one, plucks it loose of the pocket imprisoning it. Nestling the cigar between two fingers, he uses his other hand to grip a clip that severs the end of the cigar. He returns the clipper to his jacket, then takes out a lighter. Click. Flare. Puff. Puff. Snap. He returns the lighter to his pocket, then leans back, blowing a circle of smoke at Cesca. "Don't jerk us around, lady. You try to pull one over on Boss Cabrerra - you try to cheat the Boss out of one red cred - and you're gonna be joining your boyfriend in the freezer. We have an understanding?" Urfkgar snorts to himself and picks a particularly large piece of carrot out of his teeth with a dirty talon. Cesca inclines her head, seemingly little bothered by the threat. "Si. I already work for Boss Cabrerra, you know. I have a great deal of respect for the organization," she says to Neidermeyer with a dazzling smile. "When I find out just what it is that I have inherited, I will contact you again, eh? And we will work out the specifics? I'm sure we will be able to find something to satisfy us both." Crrok hisses as he takes a deep pull on his drink. Growling at nothing. Neidermeyer shrugs, chomping on the cigar. "Lady, I'm satisfied either way. Either the Boss sees profits, or I get to slice up that pretty face of yours and listen to you beg to die." He winks.
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